


Mr. Philips

by areneecz



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Abuse, Affection, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Consensual Kissing, Consensual Touching, Dark, Dark Past, Declarations Of Love, Drugs, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Marriage, Memories, Neglect, Past, Past Relationship(s), Public Display of Affection, References to Drugs, Repressed Memories, Touching, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areneecz/pseuds/areneecz
Summary: Trevor lies to his mother in an attempt to keep her away only to fail miserably, now he needs Michael's help.





	1. Chapter 1

A sweet summer breeze, the rhythmic clinking rotation of smoldering ice cubes, a single glass brimmed with whiskey in close proximity. A hovering projector peacefully played re-runs of an old black-and-white TV show, dramatic sound-effects lingering overhead as whimsy characters playfully danced on-screen. A slamming car door broke the preemptive silence. A groan, escaped Michael's lips as he tugged at the remote, fingers lazily pecking at the buttons as he increased the volume, ignoring the questioning thoughts flooding in the back of his mind. Heavy-set feet clambering up the entrance way, bawled fists jutting against the wooden door as eyes peered in from behind the decorative glass. Peace was abruptly disturbed as careless hands swung the heavy-set door open. Material grazing the wall, scratching the edge of a family picture frame. Paintings shook on their nails as the door slammed back into place, a wide-set panic took over as Michael launched from his seat, a familiar pair of hazel eyes turning the corner.

"Fuckin' A!" Michael barked angrily, hands bawled at his sides unconsciously. The taller criminal's presence wasn't unusual, but the lack of peculiarity and insults was. The towering figure paced, shadowing the screen as he continuously blocked the projector. "Can't warn me, T?" He added with a huff, darting for the abandoned glass of whiskey.

"Warn you?" Trevor lulled with aggravation, situation at hand momentarily forgotten as he barred his teeth. "Why?" He interjected, response hanging in the air as Michael crossed his arms. "You ran off for ten years without a fuckin' word." He reminded, cocking an eyebrow as he jabbed a finger at the other, "I dont wanna hear it, sugar." Trevor finalized, a familiar flame in his eyes as he eyed Michael curiously.

"Fuck you." Michael barked coldly. Trevor had a knack for brining pack the past, no matter the situation, he made a mistake, they both did, but neither of them could manage to forgive each other or let the other forget. "Why are you here." He added coldly. A curious stare passing over Trevor's pacing figure as he brought the glass to his lips.

"I need your help." Trevor called almost immediately. Feet complacent on the ground as nervous hands writhed together. Trevor was complex, he knew that much, but apathy was rarely an emotion he had the pleasure of experiencing. Taking a lengthy sip Michael silently offered the glass over. Trevor was quick to handle it as he guzzled down the contents carelessly before handing the cup back. "I'm in real shit, M." He added, lips smacking together, freshly coated with whiskey.

"What now?" Michael lulled with annoyance, leather shoes echoing against the wooden floor as he strided away from the living room. "If it's more of those fuckin' Altruists you're on your own." Michael prodded. A shiver of disgust running the length of his spine as he recalled their last encounter with the elderly cultists. "Can't stand those streakin' fuckers." Michael added hoarsely.

"No, no." Trevor groaned. Words stuck in his throat as he hovered in place. If he was in trouble he was quick to admit it, this wasn't trouble, yes, it was troubling, but nothing close to a gang heist or shoot-out. "It's, my mother." He finally admitted. An instant shade of crimson throwing off his pale complexion.

"Mrs. Phillips?" Michael chuckled, returning the glass to the porcelain sink with a chortle. Trevor was ridiculous. A monster physically able to murder (and devour) an entire biker gang but afraid of his own mother. "That's what this is about?" He laughed coldly, turning he instantly regretted it. Eyes sad, avoiding Michael's gaze as they scanned the wooden floor. Yes, Mrs. Philips was the reasoning, but another unknown factor was at large.

"Told er' I got hitched." Trevor began, moving to pace as he writhed his hands together. Michael only stood, confused, amused. He wanted to laugh, he really did, but for his friend's sanity and his own safety he held it together. "Made up the worst fuckin' lie possible to keep er' away." Trevor continued, head shaking sadly as he regretted his actions.

"Who's the lucky gal?" Michael pestered, amused with the fabricated tale Trevor had pieced together. Thoughts festered within his mind as he thought of the possibilities. "Mary Anne?" Michael listed with a smirk. Vague memories of the psychotic women's actions that similarly matched Trevor's. No, not even Mary Anne would stoop to that level. "One of those expensive strippers, how much you payin' her?" Michael added with an audible laugh. Trevor was strangely silent. Eyes hovered over the room, momentarily connecting with Michael's before jutting away.

"You." Trevor admitted finally, cheeks a deeper shade as his embarrassment furthered. The word hung in the air as the two silently clenched their fists. Michael was awestruck, he couldn't of heard him correctly. Trevor was a trickster. It was a ruse, a sick fucking ruse.

"What?" Michael questioned. Eyes bulbous and weary. Confused he took a step closer, looking his friend over as he thought.

"You heard me." Trevor jabbed, face expressionless as he awaited Michael's reply. "I told her I got married to you." Trevor repeated. Hidden hazel eyes finally connecting with Michael's. The room fell silent until Michael lunged for his best friend. Swinging fists Trevor easily avoided. Feet prepared, he outstepped every attack as Michael breathlessly retreated.

"Out of everyone!" Michael barked with aggravation. Fists bawled at his sides as his cheeks flushed with crimson. Trevor was insane, the very definition of the word. Signing him up for monthly Playgirl subscriptions, sending him (hopefully unused) dildos in the mail, dragging him to the locally scattered gay bars around Los Santos, but this, this took the homosexual cake. "Why not fuckin' Ron, Chef?" Michael complained, listing off other loyal candidates that would happily play along with Trevor's meth-fueled delusion.

"She's seen em' before!" Trevor spat, instantly defending his decision. Ron was a local, no doubt about it that Ms. Philips had noticed him wandering around the property. Chef. Chef was too busy, too distracted fueling Trevor's addiction, his mother would sniff out the lie from a mile away. "I needed someone she wouldn't expect!" He added dramatically as he crossed his arms.

"I'm not fuckin' doin' this." Michael interjected. Foot down, drawing the line. He'd been pulled into too many of Trevor's antics to play along, he refused. "Find someone else." He added coldly as his eyes focused on the container of whiskey he so eagerly wanted to chug.

"M!" Trevor whined, a toddler-like stomp to his feet as he pouted. Trevor wasn't cute or convincing, puppy dog eyes rarely worked. "I'll cancel the Playgirl subscription." Trevor interjected, mind askew as he thought of convincing ideals to send in Michael's direction.

"No more dildos?" Michael asked with gruff annoyance. If he had to play along with Trevor's lie he could at least get something out of it.

"No more dildos." Trevor repeated with a head nod, pinkie raised. It was a bargain, if he could lower Amanda's suspicions and save his own ass from embarrassment, he was in.

With an eye roll Michael gripped Trevor's sweating hand. A handshake to seal the deal. An instant smile spouted on Trevor's scarred lips, with open arms he engulfed Michael selfishly. Hugging the smaller man as he hoisted him into the air. Michael only groaned in response as Trevor shook him around. He was in too deep to retreat. Trevor instantly darted from the room, hand-in-hand with Michael as he pulled him along.

"Wait, now?" Michael stammered, returning to his archway to lock the door behind him before running off with Trevor. Keys returned to his lined suit pocket as he eyed Trevor curiously. He assumed Ms. Philips would be on her way in a day or two, certainly not today. "Isn't she three hours away?" Michael interjected as he slinked over to the red Bodhi.

"Three hours away two hours ago." Trevor revealed. With an eye roll Michael hopped in, closing the truck door behind him as his hands fumbled with the coiled seat-belt. Keys latched into the ignition as Trevor sped off. Wheels churning the asphalt of Michael's driveway as the familiar mansion faded into the distance.

Back roads growled happily as the dusty air whipped around them. Passing trees and trailer home's in the distance as Trevor rambled on about the lies he managed to feed his mother, how close they needed to be. Time passed slowly and Michael found himself in need of the Redwood's he managed to leave behind. With a quick diversion he pointed Trevor over to a convenience store. With a groan of annoyance he pulled in, low on gas himself he veered up to an abandoned pump, hopping out the two moved. With a set mind Michael vanished, only to come out minutes later with a fresh pack and a shiny new lighter.

"Heya' M." Trevor greeted, hands preoccupied as he forced the pump into the gas valve, a steady supply of fluid leaking into the tank as he tapped his foot impatiently. "Whatcha' thinkin' for dinner, sugar?" He teased feverishly, winking to seal the deal and further Michael's embarrassment. Trevor was a tease, and given the opportunity, he'd use Michael to his advantage.

"I doubt you have anything of nutritional value in that fuckin' fridge of yours." Michael teased as he tore open the box, shoving the contents into his mouth as he whisked forward the firey tool. "Hopefully we'll find something." He added as he cupped a hand around the small flame at the end of his ciggerette.

"Gimme' a puff." Trevor ordered, eyeing Michael as he indulged. With a chortle Michael only ignored him as he sucked on the slowly igniting stick. Minutes passed as the nozzle happily finished, locking into place as Trevor returned it to the holster. Michael stood absentmindedly, leaning against the truck's bed as he pulled smoke into his lungs. "You asked for it." Trevor chuckled, an unseen grip pulling Michael forward, mouth pressing to his as he inhaled the clouding pool of fog.

Cheeks lit up as eyes deviated from focus, a kiss lasting only a few seconds leaving a lingering burn on Michael's lips. Silence  flooded the small parking lot as the two silently retreaded, simultaneously crawling into the hatchback as Trevor sped from the lot. Embering paper and tobacco sat between Micheal's lips as he tossed his new lighter to the dashboard. Lips pulled and parted as smoke poured, flooding overhead as it was dragged away with the moving current the vehicle supplied.

"I'm surprised ya' didn't hit me." Trevor annouced, breaking the silence as he focused on the road ahead. A smile grew on his lips as he took in the aroma of smoldering Redwood's and the dusty air of Sandy Shores.

"Surprised." Michael retorted, focused on his cigarette as he lolled his head back, skull firm against the headrest as he watched the passing scenery.

"Ciggerette tasted like shit." Trevor commented. Lips pursed as he continued. A hand raised off of the steering wheel to lunge forward. Fingers gripped the skinny paper cylinder, pulling it from Michael's mouth and tossing it out the window. "You did too." He added with a dry laugh as he noticed Michael's slack-jawed expression, the small pang of anger as he breathed out the remaining fumes.

"Dick." Michael insulted, arms crossed with a pout as he sat back. He was ridiculous about Michael's habits but oblivious to his own, honestly. "Those are expensive." Michael added as he tucked the pack into his pocket.

"Ah, fuck you." Trevor chortled as he momentarily eyed Michael's grumpy expression. "I just bought ya' ten more years." He insisted, focusing on his lingering comment as Michael worked effortlessly to get it off his mind.

"Whatever you say." Michael huffed, relaxing back into the cushion of the seat as he propped a knee up against the closed glove box. "Take another one of my cigs' and I'll torch your whole goddamm meth operation." He retorted half-heartedly, with a smirk he jerked forward, cranking the radio before getting into a more comfortable position.

Uncomfortable silence was replaced with the rhythmic hum of a Sandy Shores radio station. Why was he worried? It was a foolproof plan, tricking Ms. Phillips to seal the deal and help Trevor with his ever existant mommy issues. Folding his arms overhead he leaned into the seat, relaxing as he took in the scenery around him, for once he could finally understand why Trevor strayed so far away from Los Santos, the bustling streets and unwanted strangers were no match for the silent fields of scorching sand. 

"Don't get too comfortable, sugar tits." Trevor teased, car seeming to slow down as he turned through a collection of roads, wheels churning along the sand as they rolled into place. "We're home." He added with a cocky smile as he pulled the jingling keys free. Michael, peering out from beneath a single eyelid groaned, shifting position as he stretched to regain flexibility. Reaching for the door he swung it open, quickly interrupted as Trevor turned the corner, stopping him in his tracks. With needy hands he pulled Michael into his arms, the smaller criminal swatted but to no avail as Trevor proudly bounded up the stairs with Michael in his arms. Inside the house sat the same as always. With an over-dramatic heave of breath Trevor placed Michael on his feet, whilst wiping at a nonexistent bead of sweat.

"We did it, baby." Trevor teased with a wink. Dramatically raising his hand to display a make-believe ring with a proud smile. Hand pulled at Michael's to slide on a nonexistent wedding band before doing the same to himself. "Look at these beauties." He chortled as he raised both of their hands to the yellowing trailer light.

Silence. The room flooded as Michael's hand hovered, held by Trevor, the warmth flooding his skin. He knew who he was with, who he wanted, but for some reason, Trevor changed that. He could manage on his own, obviously, but the two together formed a duo unlike any other. He felt a certain way, and he knew exactly why. Hazel eyes turned to take in his face, and suddenly he was transported to one of the many snowy nights spent in a cruddy North Yankton motel. How close they used to be, before Amanda, before family. Engulfing the taller criminal he guided the scarred hands to his hips, his own grip massaging the skin of Trevor's neck as he stared up at him. He was beautiful, in Michael's eyes. Hazel eyes and caramel skin, tattoos ghosting over his muscled body. Without hesitation Michael pulled him closer, lips grazing together as the two shared a lengthy kiss. He rarely took the first move, it was a change, one he couldn't seem to flush from his thoughts as the kiss grew in intensity.

"M." Trevor hummed as their lips departed. A shimmering glint to Michael's eyes as he worked through how to process his churning thoughts.

"Call me Mr. Philips." He purred, shooting a wink in Trevor's direction as he slowly let the other go.


	2. Chapter 2

Warm air swarmed carelessly as the two stood in somber silence, taking in the moment. Puckering lips sipped at the neck of chilled beer bottles, hard lines pressed into the creases of aged skin as the duo stood ajacent from each other. For a silent moment all cares were unthought of, the impending trouble the two awaited was merely a bad dream. Seconds, minutes ticked by as they watched eachother, hungry stares and selfish obsession, silence was ultimately obscured as a conversation arose, a string of words.

"I hate you." Trevor began, hip propped up against the flimsy wooden bar adjacant as fingers sat cold and bleak due to the beading condensation of the bottle of alcohol. "I do, I really do." He added slyly, response humorous as eyebrows cocked. Silently the brown neck of the bottle met scarred lips as Trevor silently hovered. 

"No you don't." Michael retorted, a smirk shaping his lips as the lines on his skin deepened, arms crossed as he properly positioned his feet below. "If you hated me you wouldn't have me out here playin' house to fool yer' mother." He chortled, a harmless eye-roll sent in Trevor's direction.

"Maybe I don't." Trevor lulled, a smile suddenly forming only to quickly dissapate, a whirlwind of thoughts within his conciousness as he stood before the other, stood before the one other singular being that held the key to his padlocked heart. "Maybe I just haven't found the right way to tell you." He hummed, response almost undecipherable as the other made out the meaning, reading lips and pieceing the mismatched words together.

"T?" Michael called, a single response, word, letter rolling off his tounge. Hands danced carefully around the edge of his glass as the beverage was placed upon the grimey tiled countertop behind. "Tell me what?" He nitpicked, further prying as he furled his palm against the table, silver wedding band glistening in the yellow flickering trailer light.

Suddenly all space between the two was erased, a step forward, two meeting as Trevor slinked his beading glass against Michael's, hand further furling, fingertips dancing atop the small metal ring as he stood in silence, sentence almost, too painful to peace together. The issue was obvious, Trevor didn't even need to mention it to reiterate his point, they knew, he knew, Michael knew. The main pawn in Trevor's undoing, the partation between what the two aging crimials had always felt, what always stayed behind, what always manged to linger, no matter the carnage. Tightening his grip over Michael's hand Trevor reacted, jolting forward as the two pairs of lips met, skin again skin as Michael flushed, hands gripping skin, ghosting over prominent cheek bones and tensed flesh, buried in the crooks as a singular noise grabbed their attention. A creaking door, the hiss of hinges as raunchy heels clacked against the faded lynoliom floor below. Trevor's mother.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello boys." A foul mouth uttered, a familiar and recognizable tone as Trevor tensed in Michael's grasp, face ghastly and grim as he watched the wave of dyed red hair approach. "Did I come at a bad time?" She teased, a single hand falling to her hip as her adjacent arm bore the weight of a small hand bag.

"No, no." Michael began, taking the initiative as he slid his unoccupied hand to the small of Trevor's back, taking the first step as he steadied the other, nervousness noticeable as he eyed the glowing brown irises before him. "Just a little one on one before company arrives." He teased, walking hand in hand with the other as he stepped forward, free from the others suffocating grasp as he extended his hand to the aging women.

"My, what a gentleman." She cooed, flashing a familiar toothy smile in Michael's direction, expression quick to fade as she noticed her son's silence. "Nothing to say to your dear mother, boy?" She commented, hand dropping into Michael's as they exchanged a quick shake.

"I dunno' ah." Trevor stumbled, eyes dragging from Michael to his mother. Suddenly his tension faded as the shorter criminal linked his hand with Trevor's, a reassuring smile shared as he believed in the taller man before him. "Just surprised, awestruck, that's all, 'ma." He replied, a heavy breath released as he summoned a calm one in replacement.

"At least you've made somethin' of yerself." The older women commented coldly, a cock to a singular eyebrow as she crossed her arms, clunky jewelry audible as it reacted. "My little damaged child with such a suitable support of a husband." She grinned, a butchered concept of happiness in mind.

"Yeah, he's a handful." Michael retorted, nudging elbows with Trevor as he flashed the other a knowing smile. "But he's my handful all the same." He interjected, smile sliding across his face as he awaited the next incriminating response he would have to save Trevor from.

Red curls bounced as she nodded in response, aged skin tight as she moved. Stepping forward she approached, hovering above Trevor's couch as wrinkly fingers flicked away a layer of dust before sitting down. With kindness masquerading her true intentions she waved, hand ushering her son forward as he obeyed, aiding her as he dragged a stool across the room, quietly she propped her tired feet up, purse and belongings slid beside her as she joined her hands together.

"Now." She began, puckering lips plastered with red lipstick stretching to compensate her smile. Frail hands waved, ordering a drink that Trevor was quick to deliver. Backing up he stood, standing beside Michael as he slinked his hand around the smaller man's waist. "Tell me everything." She finished excitedly.

 Hours passed, a whirlwind of awkward silence and curious behavior, invasive questioning and a non-stop barrage of digging, deeper and deeper to unravel the intricate story that was Michael and Trevor. Emotion took the best of them, fighting through the conversation as Trevor foul-mouthed Amanda's existence, fighting through his mother as he dug deeper into the two's own personal issues. Amanda, Tracey, Jimmy, all brought up, all mentioned. The tale was crafted carefully, kick-started by crime, heists. Spun a bit differently the two lied, coveying robbing as a part-time thing, a hobby, something to provide them with extra cash when they had none on-hand. Through the tale the two found themselves closer, emotional and loathing as tears dusted dry skin, a believable story that even Michael hadn't prepared himself for, Trevor's hidden emotions, the secrets he refused to let into the open now a burning reality.

"Did I?" She began, hands falling to Trevor's knee in a somehow soothing manner, a jump at first at the unusualness of the contact followed by a longing, a pull as Trevor placed his hand atop hers. Gently she circled, watching the trail of tears as the other attempted to force the emotion away, be the juvenile and evil figure she saw him as. "Was it too much?" She followed up with, supplying a reassuring squeeze to Trevor's knee before she pulled her hand away.

"We, 'ah." Trevor began, bawling his abandoned hand into a fist as he fidgeted in the chair he sat in, a cringe evident as he fought to change the topic, to avoid the conversation. With an intrusive thumb he dabbed at his tears, digging at the corner of his eyes with dirty fingernails as he redirected his thoughts. "We still got a lotta' work through." He revealed, boots sliding across the linoleum floor below as he stood from the couch were he once sat beside his mother. Moving from the couch he encompassed the door, gripping at the frame, as he thought, mind stirring with thoughts, blending as he re-walked the space, returning to Michael as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cleanly shaven cheek before muttering a response. "I'm gonna' go fer' an alcohol run before we get low." He lied, changing topics as he desperately returned to the door. "You'll be okay with M, wont ya' mom?" Trevor questioned, one foot in and one foot out as he awaited her answer. Unusually lenient she let him go, waving him away as she flashed the taller criminal a sad smile.

"I'll be fine, boy." She hummed, moving from her spot as she stood up. Looking between the two she ushered up to Trevor, giving him a small hug before letting him leave. "Come back soon ya' here." She ordered, watching him barge out the door and pile into the familiar hatch-back before pulling away from the dusty turf. With a sad face she returned to her spot, nodding to Micheal before continuing the conversation.

 Michael pried. He tried not to, he tried to keep on topic and learn only the bare minimum. He couldn't help it, he wanted to learn more, learn the things that Trevor refused to enlighten him about. He served, air-force, Michael knew that, knew about his discharge due to mental health, knew about his dedication to the job, to the cause. Digging he learned more, about his childhood, his invisible figure of a father, what he dealt with and was dealt in return. His mother was no closed book, she said any and everything that was on her mind, that anyone asked of her, she spoke it, she told it. Time passed slowly as Trevor took his time, churning the dirt of the small Sandy Shores area as he drove reassuring circles around the neighborhood, music blasting and wind whipping as the night sky fell. Keeping the frail women company he took on Trevor's load, filling his shoes as he awaited his "husbands" return. A hour, two, time ticked, the hissing call of cicadas and owls filling the quiet desert. With no warning wheels whined, rolling into place as movement ceased, gravel crunched underfoot, moving from place to place as the stairs outside creaked with the weight supplied. Tired fingers curled, pushing the thin metal door open as a blank and cold expression was revealed, a familiar face turning the corner as he flashed an awkward smile, letting the door swing behind him as he returned to the spot next to his mother.

"I'm sorry." Trevor began, the first words out of his mouth as he was disarmingly distant, sitting a good space away as his mood and demeanor were replaced with Trevor's usual attitude, silent as he flashed a tired smile in Michael's direction. He wanted her gone, to head back into Los Santos, head to the airport so he could unravel, so he could face Michael with no other living soul around his witness his inevitable undoing. "I eh' forgot the alcohol." He chuckled, voice devoid of emotion as his hands furled nervously, moving to raise, to rub at his neck.

"We all know good and well that alcohol wasn't the issue, son." She began, eyes flashing between the two as she crossed her legs. Hands moved to grip her purse, manicured fingers digging through the contents as she picked, pulling free a cigarette as she brought it to her lips. Hands ushered around for a lighter before Michael ultimately reacted, digging for his own as he pulled it free, handing it over with ease as he nervously eyed Trevor. "Don't lie to yer' dear ol' mother, boy." She announced, pulling the lighter into a suitable position before lighting her cigarette, embers flickering as the paper lit, smoke pooling out dramatically as she returned the lighter to it's rightful owner.

"I just needed some time to myself." Trevor revealed, eyes darting back and forth as he let a heavy breath pass, shoulders hunched as they shook nervously, a wave of panic in his eyes as he fought his inner feelings. His mother was a hard person to please, a hard person to convince, but when something was wrong, it was wrong, it was obvious and alarming, it was something his mother understood, and ultimately cared about, it something was troubling enough to bother someone like Trevor, she wanted details, every detail. "Did I take too long?" He questioned, the nothingness flushed away with a wave of panic and fear.

"Not at all." She quickly retorted, standing from the sofa as she took a last few longing puffs from her dwindling cigarette, back arched as she leaned over to snuff it out. Hands brushed clean she motioned for Trevor to steady her weight, hand held as she edged out from the small space, pulling the taller man along as she headed for the door. "I'm about ready to head fer' the airport." She announced, moving over as she patted a calming hand over Trevor's. "Bring me, will you?" She questioned, turning in-between the two as she let her grip falter, letting Trevor move freely as he filled the empty space beside Michael. "The long drive will do us some good, get you talkin' to me." She finalized, hand over hand as she stood in the doorway, eyes watching her son as sheawaited his response, reply.

With a sad look Trevor turned to Michael, firm hands atop as he pulled the other into a hug, a rough collision as he refused to separate. With a tug he jerked away, breaking apart as his hand moved from shoulder to neck, sliding up the suit-front and across Michael's skin as he brushed the smaller criminal. With a final swift movement he pulled the other in, lips meeting as they joined, melting and melding, tongue sliding over, perking the edges of Michael's mouth as the space grew hot, with a tug he nipped, biting at the other's lips as he pulled away. With no signaling expression he turned, eyeing his mother with a fradulent smile as he pulled her along, watching her lasting wave to Michael as he led her to the familiar red hatch-back.


	4. Chapter 4

The familiar trailer grumbled and groaned as the harsh and humid wind stirred up, shoveling piles of sand and debris against the metal walls that sheathed the outside of the small home. Slowly the sky fell, strips of yellow and orange mixing with pink and purple as the sun sank deeper. Darkness fell over the quiet outcast village, coating the sand dunes in a comfortable cool as the harsh sun took it's temporary bow. Shadows approached as lights flickered on, the town seemingly coming to life a second time as the rustling community continued under the cover of night. Hours passed, minute after minute, second after second filled with the echo of pacing feet and TV static, a similar trip as ciggerettes were lit only to be snuffed out, beers downed only to be emptied. Quickly the shenanigans grew old, the nervous back and forth pacing, the numbing sizzle of stationless TV, the hum of hovering flies. Effortlessly a mass graviated, collecting the growing collection of containers and piling them up in the sink nearby. The clatter was filling, blocking out all outside noise, the rumble of an engine, the crunching of sand, the thundering footsteps, the quietly hovering rainfall behind him.

"M." A familiar voice called, spinning on his heels the other huffed, startled at the sudden and silent return of his partner. Quietly he made his presence known, swooping in as he made his way to the fridge, pushing through a wall of unnamed and unknown condiments. Fingers greedily searching until finding a sweaty bottle of lukewarm alcohol. "Game over, you're free to go." He chimed in, turning as he closed the unit behind him. Rough and calloused fingers pryed at the bottle, painlessly pulling the toothy metal cap free before carelessly tossing the item to the ground with an echoing rattle.

"Took ya' long enough." Michael hummed, caution turning into tender care as a nervous pair of blue eyes fell atop the other. He was a wreck, eyes bloodshot, knuckles, elbows scraped and scratched, thin lines sprinkled with dirt, grit, germs. Sweat was evident, what wasn't was when it had started or ended. "Not nice to keep your speical someone waiting." He retorted with a purr. Arms crossed as he offered the other a teasing smile.

"Cut the shit." Trevor hissed, grasp tightening on his bottle as Michael's words instantly got the better of him. Rolling his eyes he fumbled around, kicking off his shoes, carefully holding his container as he dressed down. "You don't need to keep pretending." He added painfully, an assult of words leaving his mouth as the usual furrow of brows set in.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Michael returned sourly. A mood falling upon the two as the calming demeanor of the situation quickly trickled away. Defensively the situation escalated, the silence, the defeaning static quickly replaced with cold sarcastic comments. "Probably another biker." He pursed, a pucker to his lips as he leaned back against the edge of the counter.

" _Who_ or _what_ I **_fuck_**  is none of your _goddamm_ business, Michael." Trevor barked, drink disappearing from view as the container was tossed aside, thrown with such a force that it send liquid cascading and glass shattering. "Thanks for the help, **asshole** , you can go back to the less then entertaining _cesspool_ you call a life." He spat, quick on his heels as he closed in, fingers jerking and jabbing as angry brown slits eyed the lifeless blue before them.

"What's your **fuckin** ' problem?" Michael quiped, shaking off the spray of sticky alcohol from his shirt-front before returning to the situation at hand. "Maybe I shoulda' let you deal with mommy by yourself." He scoffed, hands raised as he tugged on the material circling his wrists.

"Maybe you should of!" Trevor shouted, roughly, shoving the other against the weak material behind. Footfalls pacing as the other internal decided, to stay or go, to fight or flee.

"Maybe I should of?" Michael returned, continuing the berage of comments as he stepped free from the counter, surrounding the other as he grew closer.

"It's all a game to you, isn't it?" Trevor grit, fists balling unconsciously beside him as he poured his being out, person as a whole excreting through his eyes, facial features. "Toying with me, making me feel worse then I already do." He spat, circling the area as water sloshed and glass crunched beneath. "Playing with my feelings?" Trevor continued, jerking around as he lifelessly bobbed, thoughts stirring as his body did. "It's all oh-so exilerating to you, isn't it?" He questioned, prodding forward as he pushed, the other backing up due to his stubborness.

"The ' **fuck** you goin' on about?" Michael huffed, the tense air above them hot as they both teetered on the edge of explosion. Moving with the other he refused to break eye contact, irsis's slits as he stumbled backwards. "The ' **fuck** did she say on the way to the airport?" He added. Pushing forward as the two both batteled, silently fighting each other.

With a vere Trevor deviated, situation shifting as the two closed in on each other. Bloody knuckles furled into the fabric of Michael's collar, grip tight and suffocating as Trevor hovered menacingly. Within seconds the situation grew in intensity. Anger dispursed, emotions flowed freely. Lips pursed, pressed as bone, teeth, painfully collided. Pulling and parting. A sweet and salty embrace as warmth dripped and dribbled, the peck of trickling tears as Trevor held on to the moment, to Michael. Crying, tears dotted the skin below, pouring over as lips pressed on, paused, and parted. Stepping back they separated, air a whole new level of tense as anger was replaced with sadness, confusion with a sense of understanding. He knew, Michael knew.

"You make me feel so empty yet so **_fucking_** full." Trevor began, looking up through damp eyelashes, completely out of character as he looked upon the other. Gushing he poured his heart out, about the past, present, and future, about the inevitable and unievitable. "Useful yet useless, wanted, unwanted." He trailed on, uproar of emotions taking it's toll as the two faded, the pair, duo unrecognisable.

Stepping in Michael embraced him, whispering sweet nothings as he listened to the declarations of love he'd heard too many times before. Folding in, hands circling, circumferencing as fingers rubbed circles into the tense flesh of Trevor's back. Love. Trevor loved him, oh god did he love him. Finicky emotions were, something the two both equally dispised but found themselves entangled within. A similar hatred of the world, of those who had wronged them. Backstories a patch of ivy, overlapping and intertwining, similar yet so different, unique yet so lacking creativity. It brought them together, them against the world, the loneliness, the silence, the staring, the expressions and emotions, the mesh and meld. Past and present a constant overlapping frame of time.

"I love you." Michael announced, prying himself off of the other as eyes hovered atop the others. Salty stream a halt as the smaller criminal brushed at the trail with his thumb. Skin below scruffy and scarred, troubled and traumatized. "Games aside, shitty plan and all." He added, making his true feelings known as he stood as a anchor for the heavy weight atop him. Wheezing and whining the other sank, deeper and deeper into the ocean that was Michael De Santa, the gripping and grasping quicksand that was, what ultimately was the two of them.

"But?" Trevor oozed, forehead pressing againt the material sheathing Michael's shoulder. Face hidden as a dampness pooled below. He knew, they both did.

"But." Michael repeated, pulling the other closer as they both unravelled. Stuck in the same slump, aware of the circumstances and yet wishing they didn't exist. Wanting each other but too far away to keep any promise, to hold on.

**Amanda, why Amanda.**

**Author's Note:**

> Will something more come out of Trevor and Michael's antics?


End file.
